A story about a dress.

So, for the past, like EVER (possibly since I first fell in love with Peter Pan collars, prim dresses and Enid Coleslaw aesthetic in 2001, or possibly ever since I first fell in love with Courtney Love in like 1994 — AUTHENTIC), I have been searching high and low for this very dress. I have come across a few vintage versions, which are usually either very expensive or way too small. About two years ago BB Dakota made one, but it disappeared from the shelves seemingly as soon as it was released, and I never actually saw it for sale anywhere, online or otherwise. The sole evidence, as far as I know, of its existence is an editorial in the now defunct MissBehave magazine (RIP). Last year I went as Courtney Love for Halloween, and was able to find a reasonable facsimile from a thrift store, but wound up butchering it out of desperation when I needed to shorten the sleeves and hemline mere hours before the party I was attending. It had no waist and was made from sun-bleached polyester, so it never saw the light of day again after that night. It awaits alteration in the cemetery of vintage dresses that is my 2nd closet.

Fast-forward to two weeks ago, when I was flipping through a recent issue of Nylon magazine (I know it’s a horrible, Ed-Hardy-advert-laden, poorly written excuse for a publication, but I still buy it with regularity out of some sort of bizarre loyalty that began when I picked up their maiden issue [the one with liv tyler wearing glittery lipstick!] when I was still in high school. I’ve kept most of them, too). I saw an add for this new line for Madewell (which I’ve only ever been loosely familiar with because I’m a dirtbag and they make nice clothing) by Alexa Chung. There was the dress! That perfect Wednesday Adams dress.

So I quickly looked it up on their store’s website, only to find it had been sold out. Tracked it down on ebay to find the largest available size was a 10. I am like at least a 12. At least, and a lot of more “juniors”-y or on trend lines seem to run smaller than they advertise. I can get away with smaller sizes sometimes because I have a somewhat unusually narrow waist, but usually the hips, thighs or bust ruin that trick for me and I’m left with a whole lot of ill-fitting clothing (Which is why I generally wear oversized top-things and tights as pants… I’m too small in some areas for plus sizes and too large in others for straight sizes. Pretty much nobody makes clothing that fits me). It was also about 50$ more than it was listed as on the website. Oh well, I just said a tiny prayer and went for it anyway.

It arrived super promptly and I pretty much tore it out of the packaging and threw it on as soon as I got in from the post office. To my sheer and utter delirious ecstasy, it mysteriously fit like a dream (or Travelling Pants?) and was as beautiful on as it is on the hanger. The collar is made of really delicate slightly cream coloured silk, the velvet is substantial and luxe but still drapey. There is nothing half-assed about the finishing details at all: the keyhole opening at the nape of the neck is piped with the same silk the collar is made from, and all the seams are finished nicely. It has no lining, but doesn’t appear to need one since it hangs like a BEAUT and hasn’t clung to any tights I’ve worn it with (and believe me, I’ve worn it a lot considering it only arrived a week ago).

It also has a ridiculously magnetic factor that is both a blessing and a curse. To my relief, my boyfriend really loves it and doesn’t seem to mind how often I wear it (I am not so sure he would have the same attitude if I started reviving other looks from my past, like frankenstein boots and bondage collars or astroboy t-shirts and plaid old man pants if we go back far enough), although that could have more to do with the two day half-life of my post-dress afterglow/great mood. Each day that I’ve worn it out (3 different days now), I’ve received at least 3 compliments from strangers, mostly women. The downside is it seems to aggravate the already intolerable amount of letcherous street harrassment I receive on a regular basis. But to that end, I say: “Fuck off, old men. This dress is about ME, not you. And I will not let you ruin it for me”.



Please note: It looks far better with wine or forest green opaque tights, but it was almost time for my monthly laundry day when these photos were taken and I was kind of out of options. I also have no idea which shoes to wear with it. I’d like to detract, ever so slightly, from the “turn of the century child in mourning” vibe going on here, and these Repetto jazz oxfords are not helping.